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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/25702441">the captain's choice</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/legobatmanshusband/pseuds/legobatmanshusband'>legobatmanshusband</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Torchwood</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Alternate Universe, Amy's Choice AU, Doctor who plot but make it Torchwood, Domestic Fluff, Gwen Cooper is a badass, M/M, Married Life</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>In-Progress</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-08-04</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-08-16</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-18 10:42:48</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Teen And Up Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>3</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>4,261</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/25702441</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/legobatmanshusband/pseuds/legobatmanshusband</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>" ' friends ' ”.  is that the right word for the people you acquire?  friends are people you stay in touch with.  your friends never see you again one they’ve grown up.  the old man prefers the company of the young, does he not ? "</p><p> </p><p>captain jack harkness must make a choice. a choice between dream and reality. but he cannot trust either. and he's running out of time.</p><p> </p><p>( a retelling of the doctor who episode "amy's choice" with the torchwood trio)*</p><p>*rated for sexual implications and swearing- aka don't read if you're uncomfortable with torchwood's standard themes</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Jack Harkness/Ianto Jones</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>7</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>18</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>1. Chapter 1</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>first fic on this site, don't murder me.</p><p>full disclosure: i do not own the plot or the characters.</p><p>if you've never seen the dw episode "amy's choice", i suggest you watch it before you read this, because the plot will make a lot more sense.</p><p>thanks!</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Murky grey clouds obscured the sun from shining over a quaint Welsh village. They rolled over the countryside, thick and low, as if contemplating whether or not to pour down rain over the green hills or just hang in the sky and hide the sunlight. Jack Jones-Harkness was used to this sort of weather, in fact, it was exactly what he’d signed up for when he’d decided to live here. Birds swooped importantly over the roofs of old cottages. Some might have called it ominous. Trees rustled in the breeze, and Ianto Jones-Harkness was pedaling the front half of a two-seater bicycle through the center of town, a small bag dangling from the handlebars.</p><p>The Captain stood in the middle of a small kitchen in a small cottage right in the middle of that small village, stirring a mixing bowl full of batter. A rack of already-baked muffins stood slightly to the side, cooling. Once he finished stirring, Jack dipped a finger into the bowl and tested the batter. Banana and poppyseed. Good, he decided, but could use more nutmeg.</p><p>He heard the squeal of bicycle tires braking against the pathway outside and the thudding of the door opening and shutting. A few moments later, Jack was faced with the form of his young husband standing in the doorway, a cloth bag of what he presumed to be the groceries he’d requested hooked on one of his fingers, and a cheeky smirk on his face.</p><p>Jack’s face was a contented grin as he set the mixing bowl down. “Well, hello, you.”</p><p>Ianto, in turn, set down the groceries and allowed himself to be pushed against the counter and kissed. A very slow, sweet kiss, the kind he’d become accustomed to in their five years of marriage, but never really used to. He still got a little flustered and blushy whenever Jack chose to kiss him slowly, like he had all the time in the world, rather than the fervent, passionate kisses that went hand-in-hand with fervent, passionate sex.</p><p>Not that he disliked the latter type, mind.</p><p>Jack pulled away suddenly, biting down on his tongue and bringing his index finger close to his face. He’d nicked it on the nail that protruded from just below the granite countertop in that very spot.</p><p>“Dammit,” He hissed through his teeth. But before he could stick the extremity in his mouth to stop the bleeding, Ianto took his hand gently and led him to the bathroom, where they kept plasters.</p><p>“You really need to get around to fixing that bloody nail. Seems like you do this every week, and usually when you’re snogging me,” Ianto said, his face serious, but his tone laced with playfulness.<br/>
Jack waited, perhaps a little less calmly than his husband would have liked, as Ianto cleaned off the quickly spreading blood in the sink with warm water, and then dressed the wound carefully, wrapping the plaster around Jack’s forefinger.</p><p>They both had their tetanus shots, thank god. The younger man brought Jack’s hand to his lips and gave it a gentle kiss before leading him back into the kitchen. “Be more careful, will you?”</p><p>“Will do,” Jack replied softly, going back to preparing the new batch of muffins, while Ianto unpacked the items he’d purchased. He glanced briefly at the plaster wrapped tightly and carefully around his finger. Immortality was a time he could hardly remember now. He was living the only life he wanted to live. The only life he had.</p><p>“It was a bit odd for me to be popping off to the shops on a two-seater bike with no one behind me,” Ianto said as he finished up and stood beside Jack.</p><p>The older man couldn’t pretend he didn’t notice the implications of what his husband was saying, but rather than turn this Saturday-afternoon of baking into another shag against the counter, he simply turned to Ianto and grinned. “Maybe next time ask me, and I’ll gladly take you from behind. On the bike, that is.”</p><p>The Welshman rolled his eyes and helped Jack begin scooping the batter into the muffin pan. He reminisced, briefly, about how he got to this point. Married to the man he loved most in the world, a man he knew was going to be his for as long as they both lived. Living day-to-day in the Welsh countryside. Safe. Beautiful. Domestic.</p><p>He recalled a time, five years ago, when the two of them were Torchwood. Big guns, giant science fiction superbase, pteranodon (Ianto had to admit he missed Myfanwy quite often), saving Cardiff time and time again, monitoring the rift. Jack being immortal. Having to worry about the implications of that, about what would happen after Ianto himself was long gone.</p><p>It was a good time in his life. But he was happy here, too. Happy to be anywhere with Jack. He knew, since Torchwood, he’d put on a bit of weight, and let his hair grow so rather than being close-cropped, it curled down his neck and behind his ears. He’d stopped wearing suits every day in favour of colourful button-ups and denim trousers. Jack looked much the same as he had before, with the exception of the more comfortable clothes he wore. Rather than break out the greatcoat every day it was chilly, he started wearing cashmere jumpers, sometimes over button-ups and sometimes not. Today was one of the former, and he had a lovingly styled ensemble of a creamy yellow button up underneath a navy jumper, with the sleeves rolled up to show the yellow cuffs just above his elbows. Ianto thought he looked positively dashing.</p><p>“What the hell would I do without you, Mr. Jones?” He asked softly as Ianto placed the new batch in the oven.</p><p>“That’s Mr. Jones-Harkness to you, sir,” he replied, hands resting on Jack’s hips as he leaned up to press a kiss to his forehead, just below his hairline. Jack had noticed how living out in the Valleys had dialled up Ianto’s Welsh accent. People were surprised when they told him he came from Cardiff.</p><p>Suddenly, the two of them heard a familiar revving of engines outside. At first, Jack just sighed, saying, “That goddamn lawn mower. I swear, I’m going to steal that thing and feed it to a hoix.”</p><p>“No-” the Welshman put a hand on his chest, looking at him with wide eyes.</p><p>Jack suddenly realized what it was, and the two of them raced to the front door and threw it open.</p><p>Standing against a familiar gigantic black SUV was Gwen Cooper. She wore an important-looking leather jacket over top of some tight black trousers and knee-high boots. Though, five years ago, she would have gone with a t-shirt underneath, these days she favoured a white button-up or a solid coloured blouse. Her hair was straightened, bangs swept out of her face, and her lips painted a few shades darker than her skin. She grinned.</p><p>“Hello, boys!”</p><p>“Gwen!” Jack and Ianto said in unison, running to engulf her in a group hug. She giggled, kissing them both individually on the cheek.</p><p>“It’s been a quiet day, so I figured I’d come check on you! It’s been forever since I’ve seen you both. Just because you left Torchwood doesn’t mean we gotta sever all links, right?”</p><p>“Absolutely not,” Ianto replied with a smile. “Come inside, eh? We’ve just made muffins.”</p><p>Gwen giggled. “You both have gone totally domestic, you know that?”</p><p>Jack looked fake-affronted. “How dare you!”</p><p>“You’d be a bit slow catching Weevils now,” Gwen teased, reaching out to poke Ianto’s stomach. He flinched, but smiled.</p><p>The three of them went inside the house and Gwen marvelled at how lovely and well-kept it was. Of course, she’d seen their cottage before, but it looked like Ianto had done a new paint job and there were some new potted plants out on the back porch, their vibrant flowers flowing down in vines like waterfalls out of their hanging pots.</p><p>“So how are you? How’s Rhys and Anwen? And Torchwood?” Jack asked in quick succession, making sure to cover all bases so no information would be left out. Ianto went to make coffee for the three of them and placed three of the best-looking muffins on separate napkins before placing them on the table.</p><p>“I’m great! And Rhys has been doing really well with Harwoods. Big promotion last month. He’s in line to be the boss if he plays his cards right. And Anwen’s starting school soon, the sweet thing. She has no idea her mum’s out here saving the world. As for Torchwood, we’ve had to hire some new people. Andy, you know him. And Martha and Mickey. Rhys even helps when he can. We’ve yet to find a suitable coffee boy.”</p><p>“And you likely never will,” Ianto said, grinning cheekily as he poured said substance into three mugs. “At least, not one that would be up to my standard.”</p><p>“Exactly, you bastard. We’ve been drinking the shit from Starbucks,” Gwen said. “Poor Andy doesn’t know what the hell he’s missed, but I sure do.”</p><p>“Sorry about that,” the Welshman replied, sitting down carefully.</p><p>“Anything interesting come through the rift? Something we need to be worried about?” Jack asked carefully.</p><p>“Nothing you need to leave your little Welsh paradise for, sweetheart,” Gwen replied, clinking her nicely manicured nails (white, to match her shirt, Ianto noted) against the rim of the mug. “Although a few weeks back-”</p><p>She launched into a long and involved story about some strange murders that had gone on relating to some sort of new alien that they had captured and categorized. By the time she finished, the three of them had finished their coffees and muffins.</p><p>Jack was laughing. Ianto grinned, tidying up after them. “Why don’t we go take a walk, as you’re here. It’s a nice day, and all.”</p><p>Gwen glanced outside. It wasn’t notably nice, but she supposed the two of them had gotten used to this kind of weather being nice. She nodded. “Yeah. Let’s.”</p><p>***</p><p>“Bloody hell, there’s nobody out here!” Gwen exclaimed, astonished as she twisted around and looked through the cobblestone streets.</p><p>“This is busy,” Jack said.</p><p>Gwen looked almost incredulously at the two men walking on either side of her. They really had changed in five years. The Ianto Jones and Jack Harkness she had known were often cold, and sad, and lonely. But most of all, their relationship was based on need. They had known how futile it was, but they loved each other anyway.</p><p>This Jack and Ianto had no futility of existence hanging over their heads, no false promises, no death at every corner. She recalled one mission, years ago, when Tosh and Owen were still alive, when the pair of them had gone undercover in that posh neighbourhood Serenity Plaza which ended up being infested with Sleeper agents from Cell 114. She remembered how much Ianto had hated it. Hated the domesticity of it. Now, she realized, it wasn’t hatred, it was the knowledge that it was a life he and Jack could never truly lead.</p><p>And now they were. And Ianto looked happier than he had ever been.</p><p>“I’m so glad you came to see us, Gwen. We’ve missed you,” Jack said as the three of them sat down on an unoccupied bench. Gwen in the middle, with the two men on either side of her.</p><p>“Well, I couldn’t very well just leave you here to fend off rural Wales by yourself. Now look at this bench,” she said, slurring a little, as if she was tipsy. “What a lovely bench. Whatever will they think of next?”</p><p>Silence. Not much to say to that, and Ianto felt himself getting a little sleepy. His hands folded neatly in his lap.</p><p>“Don’t you two get… I dunno… bored? What do you do around here all day?”</p><p>“We’ve got plenty to keep us busy,” Ianto said, without a hint of innuendo in his tone. “I work at the coffee shop during the week. Jack’s taken to baking. We look after our neighbours. Most of them are old, well into their nineties. We relax, y’know, and we live.”</p><p>“We listen to the birds,” Jack said, a little louder than he meant to. The birdsong was insistent, less like the call of an animal and more like a ringing phone. Like he was in a dream and hadn’t quite woken up yet to answer it. He tried to keep his eyes open, but they drooped down and he suddenly felt firmly affixed to the bench, unable to muster up the energy to move.</p><p>“Didn’t get a lot of time to listen to birdsong back in the Torchwood days,” Ianto added.</p><p>“Blimey, my head,” Gwen said, clutching the side of her skull and scrunching up her dark hair in the process. The birdsong was invading her ears and her mind, like something was crawling inside her head and nesting. “God, erm, no, you’re right. Not a lot of birdsong back in Cardiff, is there?”</p><p>“No,” Jack agreed. “Not too much of that back in the good old-”</p><p>His head fell heavily against Gwen’s shoulder and he was out cold.</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0002"><h2>2. Chapter 2</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>When Jack Harkness awoke, his head was pounding. “Days!” He shouted, bolting upright then immediately regretting it as he groaned and clutched his head from the sudden movement. He was sitting on the floor of the hub, by Tosh’s old workstation, totally confused. “Gwen?” He called. “Ianto?” </p><p>Had he drifted off? That was unlike him, even when he was well and truly exhausted, he usually waited until he was tucked up in his little camp bed or in Ianto’s flat. Shaking his head, Jack pulled himself up and bounded down the steps to see Ianto sprawled in the murky water at the base of the water tower. His dark blue shirt was thoroughly soaked, as was, it seemed, his charcoal pinstripe suit. And he was coughing up water.</p><p>“Jack!” he choked, blinking as he stood up rather clumsily, looking down at his ruined suit. What the hell had happened? He had just passed out walking beside the water tower and fallen in. Thank god he hadn’t drowned.</p><p>Jack pulled him up fully and onto a drier area, his strong hands grasping Ianto’s upper arms. “God, you’re soaked.”</p><p>“Shit,” the Welshman muttered as he began to carefully peel away the jacket, terrified of tugging too hard and causing a tear.</p><p>“Gwen!?” Jack called, now that he knew Ianto was okay.</p><p>She appeared from the stairwell, seemingly having emerged from the hothouse. “Sorry, I dunno what’s happened to me. Just sort of… collapsed in the doorway. God, my head,” she said, clutching her scalp the same way she had in the dream. “What the hell happened?”</p><p>“I don’t know,” Jack said as he came back into the main part of the hub, where Ianto was carefully undressing.</p><p>“Don’t think you need to take off that nice tight suit of yours on my account,” Jack said, the uncertain situation bringing out flirtation, as it usually did. Ianto rolled his eyes.</p><p>“Well, seeing as I’m going to get hypothermia if I walk around much longer wearing it, it’s probably best for everyone if I take it off,” the Welshman said bitterly.</p><p>Jack nodded, running off to grab some towels and a pair of his own trousers and shirt for Ianto to change into.</p><p>“Oh sweetheart, did you fall in the water?”</p><p>Ianto grunted an affirmative reply as Gwen’s nimble, yet gentle hands helped him undo his waistcoat. The fabric squelched as it hit the floor.“Seems so.”</p><p>“I’m so sorry,” Gwen said soothingly. “We all sort of phased out for a moment there, huh? I woke up on the floor of the hothouse.”</p><p>“Yeah, that was weird. Had a strange dream. Or a vision, or something.”</p><p>Gwen frowned. “So did I. Sort of like a look into the future. You and Jack had got married and you were living in this little village in the Valleys.”</p><p>“And you had taken over Torchwood,” Ianto completed, his tone becoming cautious. “Yeah, that’s exactly what I dreamed about.”</p><p>Ianto frowned seriously as Jack came back with the change of clothes and several fluffy towels from the shower in his quarters. Towels Ianto had become ever so familiar with. He took them gratefully from Jack’s arms. “I had a dream, too,” he said cautiously.</p><p>Gwen looked at him seriously, an eyebrow raised.</p><p>“It was just like that,” he said, frowning.</p><p>“So we all passed out and had the same dream?” Ianto ventured.</p><p>“Maybe like a… shared psychic episode?” Gwen offered, looking between the two of them with an expression of confusion and concentration.</p><p>“Maybe,” Jack said, humming thoughtfully. “It felt so real though.”</p><p>“Yeah, it was… sort of nice,” Ianto said quietly, earning a sad little smile from Gwen. </p><p>“At least we’re back to reality now,” Gwen said. “I’ll check the rift readings, see if it's something spooky that came through.”</p><p> </p><p>“Hold on,” said Jack suddenly. “If we’re back in reality now, how come I still hear birds?”</p><p>The other two stopped dead. The birdsong was back, and it pulsated in Ianto’s ears, making them ache. But there were no birds in the hub. And even if there were, Myfanwy would have scouted them out and eaten them before they got a chance to sing.. And Ianto was feeling drowsy again. One look at Jack and Gwen and he knew they were too.</p><p>“Yeah, the same birds,” Ianto said. “The same birds from the-”</p><p>***</p><p>“-dream,” Ianto muttered with a start. “Oh, lord,” he moaned, clutching his head. “I need to take a break, I just had a dream we were back at Torchwood-” he caught Jack’s eyes. “You just had the same dream, didn’t you?”</p><p>“Yeah,” he said, standing up to stand beside Gwen, who was already looking around and putting on her police persona. “What the hell’s going on? Has something come through the rift? Is there an alien here we don’t know about?”</p><p>Gwen turned to face the two of them, her face stony, but a line of worry creasing her brow. “I don’t know, but from now on we can’t trust anything we see, hear or feel. I think something’s got inside us.”</p><p>“Inside our heads,” Ianto added. </p><p>“Just like the old days,” said Jack.</p><p>“Or the present. I mean, I thought I was awake before, that I had dreamt this place, but now… now I’m not so sure.”</p><p>Jack reached for Ianto’s hand, and the younger man took it, holding it tight. They caught each others’ eyes.</p><p>And the birdsong filled the world once again.</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0003"><h2>3. Chapter 3</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>( a/n: sorry this chapters are so short lol. they're probably gonna get longer as the story progresses, but for now i'm sticking pretty faithfully to the episode, without copy-pasting the dialogue because that would be boring as hell to read. anyway - hope you enjoy ! )</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>“God, I’m so confused,” Jack said as he ran to the main computers, joining Gwen, who was desperately searching for some kind of obvious rift activity or alien intervention to explain what was happening to the three of them, but coming up empty. Ianto followed shortly after, having looped his own belt through the loops of Jack’s blue trousers and tucked the white tee shirt in. It was far too casual a look compared to his standard ensembles, but seeing as his other option was a pile of wet wool, he didn’t mind. While he ran a towel through his hair, Ianto felt how much shorter it was. Straighter. He ran a hand down his torso. He was thinner than in the other world. This was getting weird.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The computer seemed to be figuratively shrugging at them. No weird birdsong inducing sudden shared psychotic episodes. Damn.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Maybe it’s something we brought in recently. Something in the archives, perhaps?” Gwen offered up, her arched eyebrows creasing in thought.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Something that would cause us all to start dreaming of the future.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“But it felt so vivid,” Jack said. “I mean, how do we know it’s not something in the other place making us dream of the past?”</span>
  <span>
    <br/>
  </span>
  <span>
    <br/>
  </span>
  <span>“Why would we ever leave Torchwood, though?” asked Ianto quietly.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“This place is definitely the real one, though, isn’t it?” Jack asked, ignoring the question. “It feels real.”</span>
  <span>
    <br/>
  </span>
  <span>
    <br/>
  </span>
  <span>“It felt real before, though, too,” Gwen cut in. “Maybe there’s some minor detail we’re missing, you know? Something different between this place and that one.”</span>
  <span>
    <br/>
  </span>
  <span>
    <br/>
  </span>
  <span>“If we find out which world is fake…” began Ianto.</span>
  <span>
    <br/>
  </span>
  <span>
    <br/>
  </span>
  <span>“We can figure out how to stop it,” concluded Jack.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Before they could say anything more, all the lights in the hub went out. Everything was pitch black, and suddenly the air felt a whole lot colder. Ianto held a hand out in front of him and found he could not see it, not even an outline of it.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>
    <br/>
  </span>
  <span>“What the hell is that?” Gwen asked nervously somewhere to his left.</span>
  <span>
    <br/>
  </span>
  <span>
    <br/>
  </span>
  <span>“The power’s gone. Everything’s shut down, and the hub’s gone into lockdown,” Jack replied, his voice close to Ianto’s shoulder. He felt panic rise in his throat as he realized the backup generators weren’t kicking in. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Can we reverse it?” asked Gwen.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>
    <br/>
  </span>
  <span>“Might do if we could see anything,” Ianto replied bitterly, reaching to his right and blushing a little as his hand brushed up against Jack’s crotch in the darkness.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>
    <br/>
  </span>
  <span>“You trying to take advantage of me, Mr. Jones?” Jack asked teasingly.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>
    <br/>
  </span>
  <span>“I’m only disappointed it was you and not Gwen that I touched,” Ianto retorted, but it didn’t stop him from taking hold of Jack’s hand and just holding it as a way to ground himself, so at least the darkness didn’t consume him. Jack gave his hand a squeeze.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>
    <br/>
  </span>
  <span>“There’s gotta be a torch around here somewhere,” Gwen said, her voice a little farther than it had been just a moment ago. “I mean, we aren’t called ‘Torchwood’ for nothing.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Ianto might have offered Gwen a laugh for that one, but he was too nervous to do much of anything. The hub had security measures in place to ensure this kind of thing didn’t happen. The software was half-sentient, for god’s sake! Toshiko had made damn sure the hub was the last place in Cardiff that would experience a power outage.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Finally, from somewhere across the main hub area, Gwen shouted “I found one!” and immediately a beam of light streamed across the hub, moving toward Ianto and Jack. Jack could make out the vague outlines of his friends, but it was far too dark to see either of them properly. He held Ianto’s hand tighter, subconsciously. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“This just keeps getting weirder and weirder,” Gwen said softly, holding the torch up to her chin like she was about to tell a ghost story. “Ianto? Anything you can do to fix this?”</span>
  <span>
    <br/>
  </span>
  <span>
    <br/>
  </span>
  <span>“All the computers have shut down,” Ianto said softly. “We’re completely sealed in.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>
    <br/>
  </span>
  <span>The three of them shared a look as birdsong once again began to fill their ears. Gwen pointed the torch to the ceiling, hoping it was just Myfanwy poking a bit of fun or something, but the singing only strengthened.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“This is real, right?” Jack asked the two of them. “Remember it. Hold onto it. When we wake up in the other place, we have to remember how real this feels. Got it?”</span>
  <span>
    <br/>
  </span>
  <span>
    <br/>
  </span>
  <span>Ianto gulped, and nodded. Gwen made an affirmative, but hesitant noise.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>And then they collapsed.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>***</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Okay, this has to be the real one,” said Ianto as he stood up from the bench and stretched. “It’s gotta be, I mean, it’s all solid.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“It felt solid in the hub, too,” Gwen pointed out, standing up beside him. Jack was already a few paces down the road, ever the dashing, enigmatic leader despite his civilian outfit. He looked up at the sky. Grey, cloudy, just like every day in this town.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Maybe it’s a computer simulation,” suggested Ianto. “A projection into our minds from some kind of alien device.”</span>
  <span>
    <br/>
  </span>
  <span>
    <br/>
  </span>
  <span>“I don’t think so,” Jack replied. “There’s no signs that it </span>
  <em>
    <span>is </span>
  </em>
  <span>a computer simulation. And trust me, I’ve been in some realistic ones. This one planet, there was a computer simulated sex dungeon, and let me tell ya- it was high-res in </span>
  <em>
    <span>all </span>
  </em>
  <span>the right places-”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>
    <br/>
  </span>
  <span>“Okay,” Ianto cut him off. “Don't do </span>
  <em>
    <span>too </span>
  </em>
  <span>much of that, Jack. You’ll frighten the neighbours.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span> “Speaking of neighbours,” Gwen added, looking past them to a squat building made of weathered bricks and covered with vines and moss from age. “What’s that place?”</span>
  <span>
    <br/>
  </span>
  <span>
    <br/>
  </span>
  <span>“Old people’s home,” Ianto said, as if it was obvious. The three of them looked at it all at once, spotting a few old, wrinkly people peering through the windows at them with tired, sullen-looking eyes.</span>
  <span>
    <br/>
    <br/>
  </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“There’s something odd about that lot,” Gwen said conspiratorially. “I can feel it. Can’t you?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Gwen could feel the old peoples’ eyes still on her as she turned back to the two men.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“No,” Jack said, unsure where she was going with this.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Nope,” Ianto agreed.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>
    <br/>
  </span>
  <span>“Come on, you two, all this domesticity has taken your sense of skepticism. They say the oldest people tend to be the wisest, so why don’t we go ask them?”</span>
  <span>
    <br/>
  </span>
  <span>
    <br/>
  </span>
  <span>Ianto and Jack shrugged, seemingly unconvinced, but unwilling to object when Gwen was in bossy mode.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>As the three of them made their way inside the retirement home, Gwen couldn’t help but wonder. This whole world, this </span>
  <em>
    <span>dream</span>
  </em>
  <span>. Ianto and Jack living together as a mortal married couple. A perfect house in the valleys, a quiet neighbourhood with nothing leading them astray. A safe place to grow old together, and perhaps one day to raise children. Jack’s dream life. Maybe this was Jack’s dream. Maybe this all had something to do with Jack.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Bloody hell. Didn’t it always?</span>
</p>
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